


Free hugs.

by skinnylittlered



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, hiddlestoners
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnylittlered/pseuds/skinnylittlered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OFC mistakes some random dude for somebody she knows and ends up in a better situation than she would’ve hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free hugs.

_Disengage_.

Naturally, instead of doing just that and asking for forgiveness, like any common sensed individual would feel obliged to, my arms only tighten around the firm torso of the poor bastard I am currently all but molesting with misdirected affection, knowing that, with my face buried in between his shoulder blades, there’s no possibility in physics that he could see me deciding that I am going to spend the rest of my existence attached to this unwitting dude who had the unfortunate luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for me to latch onto and, due to some seriously life-threatening embarrassment, never let go.

The voice he emits a few seconds into our impromptu, one-sided hug seems to be one to have descended from Eden itself, with a mellow gravity to it that I can feel vibrate against my arms, but a reassuring lightness of tone, “You alright back there?”

_Control centre to Corrine, disengage stat._

“You’ll have to, as weird as it sounds, and, trust me, darling, it does, take your mouth off my back, otherwise I won’t understand a thing of what you’re saying.”

“…donttalktome.”

 “You ever going to let go?”

A meditative silence follows the unanswered question and my mortification exponentially dissipates with each passing second. I can do this, he seems like a nice guy.

_Now run._

“Oh, nuh-uh,” the same edenic voice, faceless, but in the possession of some really strong arms stops me in my tracks as, having released my strong hold of him, am swiftly veering in the opposite direction, and I am soon being pulled back into the reversed rendition of our previous position, held tightly against the lean figure of the former victim of my unintentional attacks, now an attacker himself. “Who are you?”

As if it bore any significance, I mumbled a hardly intelligible rendering of my name.

“Well, Corrine, do you make it a habit of clinging to people on the street?”

There’s no trace of chastisement in his question, but intrigued mirth, and, for the first time in many years of social anxiety, I don’t feel threatened at the prospect of communicating with a stranger. I really just want to laugh in sweet relief – this could have gone an entirely different way.

“No, just you.”

“Ah, but, you see, since I am so special and fate has somehow made it happen that, out of all the people in this very crowded town, I am the one you ended up taking in your arms, what about I treat you to some lemonade? It’s rather warm outside and you seem perilously flushed.”

My blush only deepens as I nod in agreement, free from the hold he had on me, and presented with a polite “I’m Tom, by the way.”

In hindsight, perhaps I should have never let go of the elusive man with the edenic voice – it’s not everyday, after all, that one gets to glue themselves onto world famous, panty-dropping actors, is it?


End file.
